Night and the Doctor
by batsandbones-107
Summary: "And Doctor Song? In prison all her days?" - "All her days, yes. All her nights . . . well, that's between her and me, eh?"
1. Chapter 1: Picnic on Asgard

_**A few stories about the Doctor and River's nights of adventures. Easter Island? They**_

 **worshiped** _ **the Doctor there. Jim the fish, still building his dam. Living with otters. Learning the Doctor's name. Her Majesty's fishbowl. How did it all come about? And**_ **why,** _ **oh**_ **why,** _ **do**_ _ **the Doctor and River keep having adventures with fish?**_

 _ **Some original stories too.**_

 _ **Following the Doctor's timeline. He's getting older, River's getting younger.**_

 **1 - Fool Me Twice**

" _Please_?"

"Alright, here you go, then," the Doctor relented. He affably shed a few coins into the waiting hands. With an eager grin the boy turned and dashed off, his peasant rags flapping behind him, darting around the legs of passersby - _under_ the legs of passersby, too? The Doctor looked after him with a nostalgic smile. He had plenty of money, anyway, and memories of being a poor city boy himself. He jerked aside to allow a couple of overweight women to toddle past - they looked at him in disgust and muttered rude things to each other - and started along the crowded street, his coat flapping behind him.

Crowds traversed the streets of the city of Agartha. Ten went with an eye for everything he could see. It had been a long time since he'd visited, after all, and he'd never seen this particular city - even with over nine hundred years of space travel under his belt. Merry travelers marched the street, merry shoppers went in and out of stores, and vendors called merry things. Specks of civilization passed by him, jostling him and crowding him and laughing and crying. It always gave the Doctor a sense of awe to realize that these were all people - living, breathing, walking, talking consciousnesses - and an even greater feeling to realize that if he _wanted_ to he could access every particle of these people's lives - the good and the bad moments, the good and the bad _people._ Just one perk of being a time traveler. He could flit along, all while tides turned and civilizations rose and people lived and died, and none of them would be any the wiser that he was different.

Traveling alone always made the Doctor more thoughtful.

The TARDIS was parked a few blocks back, a little grumpy - they hadn't spent much quality time lately. But she would be fine, the Doctor mused to himself. Nobody could get into the box, without a key.

The Doctor was crowded against the side of the street, where a few dingy booths sat. He approached a vendor. "Excuse me sir, what are you selling?"

The grubby-aproned, fat-faced man, who looked like he'd just had week-old cheese shoved under his nose, jerked a thumb. "Look at the sign."

It was illegible. The Doctor turned back to the vendor and smiled briefly before retreating back into the crowd.

He stood for a moment, to breathe in the sights and sounds, the sweet air - well, it was really fairly smoky, but Agartha was a smoky city - and relaxed briefly. Then he felt a hand dig into his pocket and turned to see a green-haired girl off like a shot!

Ten plunged his hands into his pocket and felt around rapidly before looking after her, distraught! She had his key! He - needed that key! It was _his_ key - the TARDIS key! "Hey, hey you - get back here!" And he was off in pursuit. Her green hair was whisking around a knot of white-haired men dressed all in black. The Doctor squeezed through.

"Excuse me, pardon me -"

They jostled aside. The crowd on the other side seemed to automatically part to let Ten through, but when he stood, the wind whisking his fantastic hair, on the other side of the mass, the street looked empty. She was gone. A black-horned, red-skinned alien bonked into him, then a skinny pair of teenage boys carrying hamburgers on the other side. The Doctor managed to get free of them and looked searchingly back and forth along the street. A bin was rattling at one end, at the mouth of a narrow, dirty side street. It was the best lead he had, so he hurried over to it. In the darkness a tiny girl's figure was pelting away from him.

"Oi! Get back here!" Cursing inwardly, the Doctor tried to hurdle the bin and crashed into the narrow space between two menacingly dark buildings. Dust plumed up around him and he tripped a little before he had to be off again, in hot pursuit. The narrow street split at T where it met a stone brick wall. At random the Doctor chose left and spiraled awkwardly around the corner before regaining his balance. Water showered down from above him, and he barely managed to dodge. Looking up he saw a startled housewife holding an overturned bucket in her hands, staring down from the roof. _What was in that pail?_ He shot down the shadow-enveloped street, coat flapping in his wake. The narrow sidestreet split off into a T again and the Doctor looked both ways. One passage was merely a gap onto another busy main street. The Doctor bet that was the way she had gone and turned to face it hopelessly. He _needed_ that key - it would be a pain to get it back - it was his only way into the TARDIS -

"Give it to me."

A muted woman's voice was coming from behind the building. The Doctor turned curiously to face it. The other branch of the alley turned a corner, and he went down it cautiously, from where the muffled voices were speaking.

"Fine, take it. It's like no money anyway. And just an old apple core," muttered a girl's voice defensively.

"That apple core has an owner. And I'll return it to him."

"I think I can return it to myself, thank you very -" the Doctor cut off mid-sentence. "Oh, you." Oh, it was her. And it wasn't the little thief, perched on an overturned crate with her long, filthy green hair, black horns, apple core by one soily foot and a leg tucked behind her back. It was the woman reasoning with her. Mass of blond curls, white jacket, a pistol at her side.

"Hello, sweetie." She had already turned to face him, that same smile lighting up her face.

"Hello, Professor Song," Ten said reluctantly.

"Oh, you know me then, do you?" She seemed pleased, then her eyes widened slightly quizzically. "What are you doing here?"

"Sightseeing," he said stiffly. "What about you, doing some archaeology?"

"A little, this is more of a pleasure trip though," she said casually. One hand shot out to stop the little girl, who was trying to creep past while the two were engaged. "Return the things, please, dear."

"Fine." The green-haired kid stomped a foot and dropped a fistful of coins on the ground. Something silver slid out. The Doctor started to bend but River beat him to it. The little girl was already gone, the dust mites swirling in her wake, Ten's hand outstretched to receive, when she straightened.

"Key, please, Professor," he said.

"In a minute." She began to circle him slightly, inspecting him with a familiarity that made his stomach turn over (not in a good way). "This is the first time I've ever seen you so young! Your eleventh regeneration, for the first time." Now she sounded sad. The Doctor turned to keep facing her. She smiled wisely and finished her inspection with an upwards glance. "I love the hair, too."

"Most do," the Doctor said uncomfortably. She couldn't know how awkward this made him. Or really, maybe she could! It depended on how well he knew her in the future. "So where did we last see each other?" He was trying to beat her to the question, learn as much as he could about her before she began to suspect their history had only just began for him.

"Spoilers!" She clicked her tongue.

The Doctor _hated_ that word. It reminded him of the last time they'd met. And of the one long word she had breathed into his ear. It was unfair of her, really it was - for her to hold this information above his head, and against her word maybe she _had_ taken his name (and his screwdriver) from him against his will, because why would he give her so much power as to know his _very secret_ name (but he didn't believe it happened against his will because, after all, she had _died_ for him last time, or maybe she was just wise enough to know how it would destroy her timelines of successful thievery) and wouldn't anyone be angry to have this game played with them, the important information withheld, like some cat holding a mouse by the tail and refusing to bring on the final blow?

The Doctor rather _hated_ that word.

"Key," he said again, pointing to her closed fist. "Please" (as an afterthought). He scratched his cheek.

"No. I know you'll just disappear the instant," she said cheerfully. "Where's the TARDIS parked, by the way?"

"I can't tell you that as long as you're holding that key," he said steadily.

"You'll trust me someday," she sighed, whisking her blond curls and beginning to head out of the alley, around the corner, and into the busy street. The Doctor followed her. "Where are you going?"

"Someplace a bit nicer than that alley, and a bit quieter than the street, so we can talk!" she called back. She led Ten through the passersby, onto another street, left, right, then up a short flight of stairs and an embankment opened up before him. His immediate impression was a very long street, the end not even in view, with one side completely taken up by strings of lights and dining venues, and the other side leading onto a slope of green, green grass which eventually gave way into rippling dark water. The river Gjöll, of the city of Agartha, of the planet Asgard.

"Professor, what are we doing here?" Ten said carefully. What if he said something wrong? Let her know that she would _die_ the next time she saw him? It was going to trip off his tongue by accident, he just knew it. He couldn't talk to her.

"I thought it was a quiet, nice place to talk," she responded brightly.

The Doctor looked at her for a long moment. She looked the same as he'd last seen her, at the Library. Same golden curls, same attractive (but slightly worn) face, except her eyes, which had been very expressive - sad, and slightly pleading - were now inscrutable. What had happened to open her up between now and the Library? Whatever it was, it hadn't happened yet. He felt a prickle of disgust. He didn't want to talk to her. He couldn't trust her. He couldn't trust somebody that didn't _do as he said_ \- as bad as it sounded people that didn't do as he said usually died! And she had died! He could still remember, very very clearly, the sound of her voice.

" _Doctor, please say you know who I am."_

" _Who are you?"_

He twitched his head like he was shaking off a fly, made up his mind, then swayed to look over his shoulder back at the vendors, and looked back at River. "Well, Professor Song, I'll do you one better," he said cheerfully. "I'll take you out to eat."

"Excellent. But do you have any money? I don't think the girl returned it all," River replied without missing a beat.

"Of course I do! Let me -" The Doctor explored his pockets and came up with a fistful of coins. "See, that's plenty."

"No more apple cores?" River raised her eyebrows. Her tone was sarcastic. "Are you sure that's all Asgardian currency?"

"Um, maybe - no," he admitted, checking the coins. "These are Earth change."

"I have some Asgard dollars," River allowed. "Let's get some food." She extended her hand, and after a moment's hesitation the Doctor accepted it. It felt warm, and it closed with familiarity around his. But it was so _unfamiliar,_ and it sent chills through him, just how at _ease_ she was, but the last person that had belonged in his hand was - Donna, and she was at home on Earth nursing a case of amnesia, and before that it had been Martha, whose family had spent a year enslaved by his archnemesis, and before _that_ it had been - the Doctor swallowed. Oh, dear. What was he thinking? And this one had actually _died_ for him before. But his feet were carrying him automatically after River, who was leading him to one of the fancier vendors. The Doctor ordered first, and River got some things for them to share in addition to her own order, and in a few minutes they were sprawled on the riverbank, their picnic spread out on a blanket River had pulled from the pack on her back, and the sunshine was scattering golden glints through her hair.

"So, Doctor, what do you know of the history of Asgard?" River's voice had changed. It was more pensive, and she kept looking at him.

"I forgot, Professor, you're an archaeologist," Ten said lightly. "Only that some space travelers tricked the natives into thinking they were Viking gods."

"They a weird fascination with Norse mythology," River agreed, bringing her water to her lips. "I've been excavating some ruins here. Interesting stuff." She launched into an explanation, but it didn't escape the Doctor's notice that _her_ attention was more on him, and his face, than it was on what she was saying. When she finished the Doctor started on his own recent travels. "I was on Raxacoricafallapatorius recently."

"Raxacoricafallapatorius? Which time zone?"

"During the election! It's the big one," the Doctor waved enthusiastically, taking an orange and beginning to peel it. "This mayor will go on to do great things. He'll start successful trade agreements that'll last for centuries and Raxacoricafallapatorius into a major power."

"He'll also legalize the search of the lost moon of Poosh," River mentioned cheerfully.

"He'll be unsuccessful." The Doctor tossed a peel to the gulls. They took flight in a rush of feathers to squabble over it.

"Oh, were you there for the coronation?" River asked in interest, leaning forward. "The assassination attempt, very exciting! But the assassins _were_ stupid."

"When he shot the crowner, on purpose?" Ten popped a chunk of orange in his mouth.

"Because he thought it was the mayor!" River inhaled a piece of food and promptly began to laugh, half-snorting. The Doctor began to laugh with her. The sight was funny, anyway, her head tipped back and her working furiously to not drop the food out.

"Oh, Doctor, look out!" River gasped through her laughter, pointing a finger above him.

Seagulls rushed above him. One ran a wing into his head and flew off, orange peel in its bill. Two others took off after him in hot pursuit. A second later something warm and sticky, and _wet_ , smacked into his hair.

River was laughing helplessly. The Doctor felt his hair and a finger came out white and _gross._

"Oh, shut up!" the Doctor groused at her. He shot an orange peel at her and immediately a few other seagulls hightailed it after the scrap. Feathers whirled, dotting her _magical_ hair - and one stuck up her _nose_. The Doctor started to laugh too. They were happy for a moment, just a pair of very wise fools, sitting on the banks of the river Gjöll, having a picnic on Asgard, laughing, when a hand clapped down on the Doctor's shoulder.

River was already on her feet, hand jerking toward her revolver, shedding feathers majestically. The Doctor was pulled up roughly. "Sir, you're under arrest," said a guttural tone. He was spun by the hands to see four soldiers, dressed all in black, with black assault rifles and black-visored black helmets, with one reading him his rights already and one clapping cuffs on his wrists. "What did he do?" River demanded.

"What _did_ I do?" the Doctor exclaimed.

"Please come quietly," one of them ordered.

"Doctor, what did you do?" River yelled after him. The soldiers were already beginning to yank him away. One was patting him down.

"No, it's okay, really," the Doctor tried to assure her. "I didn't do anything! It's just -" he was trying to say that he was alright, that he could escape if he wanted, but he'd rather get to the bottom of things, and something in her expression convinced him that she understood. The soldiers had missed the sonic screwdriver at the bottom of his pocket. He was fine.

"I'll find out what's going on," River promised loudly. The Doctor nodded to her before they jerked him around and began to drag him along the street. They brought him down the flight of stairs roughly, and the bricks swallowed up his view of the Professor.

River Song stood still for a moment, lapsing into thought. Hmm. So the Doctor was alright. Oh, he was _so_ young, would he really be alright? But he would be. She dragged the feather out of her nose and looked at in distraction. Good thing she'd taken the key. Poor dear, if they'd found it, it'd be a painful mess to get back to the TARDIS. As it was, she may as well do a bit of detective-work, and they could find out just who was the better investigator.

Her pulse was quickening already! Oh, it was lovely to meet him again. Even if he was _so_ young. His clear distrust cut her a little, but at this stage of the game it was getting easier to ignore.

She glanced up and down the street. All the diners were staring at her. Mm. Better get out of the open. She scooped up the blanket, pulled the food and thing into her extra-dimensional pack, and spun to head off in the opposite way they and the soldiers had come.

Professor Song retreated into an alleyway and summoned the TARDIS.

They blindfolded the Doctor in a shed just a little ways off a main street a few blocks down. He heard a heavy door swing open - judging by the squeal of the hinges - decided that it was lucky he still had his screwdriver. Otherwise the situation might be a little worrisome. He was no James Bond, and defeating four soldiers barehanded was a bit much for him. He should have known something like this would happen, anyway. River Song, apparently, attracted trouble, and Asgard was already a pretty poor planet. Mostly peasants and poor folk. Plenty of social injustice. Like _this_ social injustice, he mused.

"Watch your step," intoned the guttural voice.

The Doctor raised a foot in preparation to ascend - and then tripped down a step. The soldiers laughed. For a few minutes he was tripping down stairs until another door clanged open and he was shoved through, ankles sore from knocking the steps. He was pulled into some kind of transport, then nearly received whiplash when it _zipped_ forward. He thought he heard another laugh but it was stolen by the wind of their flight. For nearly ten minutes the transporter zoomed straight, then jerked and sped left for another five minutes. Unfortunately for the soldiers, they didn't realize that they had a Time Lord, who with over nine hundred years of experience had an excellent head for time and space. When the transporter finally ground to a halt he was roughly lifted out, then propelled forward; dragged speedily up steps while he tried to get his footing; another door swung open, then sat down roughly.

"Take his blindfold off," said the guttural one.

The black fabric was stripped away.

The Doctor blinked into the sudden harsh fluorescent light, trying to get adjusted.

He was on a cold black bench, hands cuffed, and one soldier was patting him down again. Searching his pockets. Ten swallowed when he pulled the sonic screwdriver from his coat.

Uh-oh. Things were getting a little less fun now.

"Is this the thing the boss meant when he said he wanted him unarmed?" asked the soldier waving the screwdriver.

"Must be. Give me that," growled the guttural-voiced, grabbing the screwdriver away. He tucked the screwdriver onto one of the black steel shelves lining the concrete walls. If the Doctor had to guess, he'd say they were in a concrete shed like the one they'd entered to come down to the transporter rail, but he wasn't positive. The soldier leaned forward, placing his hands on the arms of the bench. "Tell us about the Vagos."

"The Vagos?" The Doctor tried to adjust to the light. "I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't play dumb," growled the soldier. "You have everything to lose right now. That little miss on the embankment? Her, too."

One of the soldiers menacingly raised his rifle. The Doctor eyed it nervously. Uh-oh. Hopefully the Professor was coming.

"I think you'll find she can take care of herself quite well, actually," Ten began carefully and quickly, "and that you can put that gun down. Just tell me what exactly is this Vagos you want." He looked the visor in the eye.

"Stop -"

"Stop, man," boomed a deep voice. Everyone looked over their shoulders and the Doctor stared as a door swung open, not the one they'd come through, in the wall. The gap was nearly filled with the silhouette of a massive horned shape. Just black chinks showed in the holes. Apparently the room was not a shed, but a part of a larger complex. The shape stepped heavily inside. It was a tall, white-skinned man, with long dark brown hair, enormous curling ram's horns, a muscular physique, and gray business clothes. He had nostrils like a ram's as well and vivid green eyes.

"Oh, hello," Ten began with an attempt at cheer.

"Shut up," interrupted the man. "Get out of here, guards. We'll be fine. Wait outside." He pointed out the black gap left by the open door. The soldiers silently filed out, the last one through clanging it with finality.

The Doctor tried to speak through his trepidation. "You're a Uruturu, then, aren't you? Lovely species. From the Utania belt, planet V-5."

"Shut up," the Uruturu said again. "I'm not interested in that. Do you know my name?"

Ten clicked his tongue. "I don't _believe_ we've been introduced."

"Well, I know who you are," the horned giant said softly, leaning forward. "My name is Banox, Galafred Banox. No, that is not my real first name, but you may as well know the last so that you can die knowing just who killed you. The best crime boss on the planet Asgard. Oh, is this your screwdriver?" He took it off the shelf, played with it in his huge bleached fingers.

"Why do you want to kill me, then?" Ten said carefully, keeping his eye on the screwdriver.

Banox snorted, spittle flying from his enormous nostrils. A piece landed on the Doctor's coat and he winced inwardly. "I don't want to _kill_ you exactly, just drain you of life. Shall I explain?" He spread his hands. "Take a look at this room. Notice anything strange about it?" His voice was deep and oddly mature for a bull.

The Doctor attempted to look around but could only twist so far. The soldiers had him strapped into the chair.

"It's _wired_ , man," said the Uruturu with disappointment. "I thought being a Time Lord, you'd have some additional powers."

"Time Lord?" The words tentatively left the tip of the Doctor's tongue.

"Time Lord, like from Gallifrey," Banox said in amusement, enjoying himself. "With regeneration energy. You see, the five-minute explanation is that your regeneration power, and natural long life span, will turn me into a veritable _god._ Anyone's life could do, to make me live longer, but you, my good sir"- he leaned over and thumped the Doctor painfully on the back -"will make me immortal!"

This was not fun at all anymore. The Doctor wished River would hurry up.

"That explanation took only six seconds," he pointed out.

Banox's eyes flashed red.

The soldiers were invited back in, and a huge machine tangled with black cords was rolled out from behind the Doctor. Banox was quickly connected to it, from the tips of his curly horns, from the feet he'd stripped, from his bleached white arms and points on his face. The soldiers seated him as well and he now had his feet raised on an overturned crate, eyes closed, head slowly tilting back and forth, humming strangely.

"What's he doing, then?" said one soldier.

"I can hear you," said Banox clearly, eyes still shut.

"He's preparing himself," the Doctor explained to the soldier. "Uruturus have some extraordinary mental powers. He can shield himself from the pain of this operation, if he likes, it'll just take a few minutes to set up."

"I thought he was hiring us to get the stuff you'd stolen," said the same soldier uncertainly.

"Shut up and do as you're told," Banox growled. "Leave me in peace. You're being paid."

"Not enough," said the guttural one.

"Shut up," bellowed the Uruturu for the fourth time, with such force that dust fell from the ceiling and shook from the shelves.

"Uruturus also have tremendous lung capacity," the Doctor whispered. He could get out this fix. He already had a plan, and thus could afford lightheartedness.

Banox's lips quivered, and his eyes opened to roll back into his head. Time to strike. Clearly the Uruturu was not the best of thinkers to leave himself so _open_ like this.

The Doctor rolled his head slightly, getting an eye on one of the guards, and jerked his head a few times to beckon him. The guard approached him, assault rifle swinging. The Doctor leaned up to talk to him.

"So, how much are you getting paid?"

"Quite a lot, actually," said a tight British accent.

"Well, what I would do," the Doctor said quietly, trying not to attract the attention of the other soldiers, "is I would ask for a pay raise."

"Why's that?" asked the voice behind the visor.

"Because"- the Doctor unstuck his hands from underneath him and showed them, palms up, fingers waggling-"free hands!"

The soldiers exploded into action, simultaneously training their guns on him. The Doctor flipped behind his chair, sonicking them as he went. Their guns pulverized the chair-and it shrank into a pile of steaming metal by the Doctor's knees-before their guns all died at once. Ten made a leap for the door. The one that led out of the room, that Banox had come through - and Banox, meanwhile, was still out _cold_ \- was closer, and Ten catapulted through it (it was thankfully unlocked). He whisked around the corner, not even pausing to get a good look in at his surroundings.

It was a long, concrete, high-ceilinged, wide corridor, interspersed with high fluorescent lights every so often, and deep swathes of shadow in between. It was reminiscent of the Library. _Everything_ was reminiscent of the Library just now, from black visors and high ceilings and shadows and the woman who'd died. The Doctor careened down the corridor with no idea where he was going. He needed away from those soldiers, away from that machine, away from River Song, and most importantly right now, away from Banox - and he needed the TARDIS! He could hear the soldiers charging after him, heavy black boots slapping on the concrete.

Then, quite out of nowhere, an enormous concrete wall. It rose up from the shadows and he nearly smacked his face into it. Using his hands the Ten bounced off it and turned hopelessly to face the soldiers, who had gained rapidly. One closed on him and he raised his hands in surrender. A gun clanged down on his head and all went black.

His last thought was _Again?_

When Ten came to it was with a shock, because big, ugly pale nostrils were right in his face. "Eurgh!" he exclaimed, jolting back. He became conscious that he was strapped back in a new metal chair, while the acrid smell of melted steel (a smell he was unfortunately familiar with) filled his nose, and his hands _and_ feet were cuffed.

"How dare you!" roared Banox.

Ten held his breath and shut his eyes as the roar from the Uruturu blew back his hair. Spit landed on his face. Wincing, he opened his eyes. His screwdriver was lying on a shelf opposite him.

"How dare you try to escape," spat Banox. "I am one of the five crime bosses in this system, the best of Asgard, descended from Gronad the Great himself! How _dare_ you?"

 _You keep saying that,_ Ten wanted to sass. But it wasn't in his best interest. Besides, his head hurt horribly, and now he doubted that River would be able to find him.

"Connect him to the machine," Banox snarled. "Let's get this over with. Never mind my _preparations."_ He glared savagely at Ten. "This will hurt like the devil, but worse for you than me."

"Oh, right," Ten mumbled. He smacked his lips uncertainly, then in the next instant felt a jolt of cold clarity and pain when the soldier roughly connected his arm with a cord. On the other side another soldier had rolled up his sleeve and connected the arm. A third approached to apply them to his forehead, and even, he thought, to the tips of his hair. One of the soldiers bent to peel off his boots and socks and stick cords into his toes. Every connection hurt, and by the last he was woozy and stars dazzled him. His head throbbed viciously.

"Start the process," Banox bellowed. Ten peered through his haze of pain and saw that the Uruturan crime boss was likewise connected to the machine.

The fourth soldier, who'd flipped up his visor to reveal a sweaty, swarthy, mustached man, looked nervously at the Time Lord, then back to Banox, then shut his visor and flipped the switch.

 _Pain_ breathed through the Doctor's limbs. It wasn't sudden, but it began with his feet and welled up through his head.

He thought he might be screaming. But he couldn't really tell through Banox's bellows. Again dust showered from the ceiling. Ten screwed up his eyes and poured out his pain in his voice. It _hurt. It hurt so badly. It was pain, in almost every sense of the word!_

It seemed that he blacked out again, but when he came to the soldiers were speaking together. He felt weak, and faint, and very very sick and awful. His head seemed to split with every tentative beat of his heart.

"Continue," he heard Banox say weakly. It was as if the words reached him over a long distance.

Please, _don't_ continue -

The heavy lever rang out again and again the Doctor was screaming. Then the pain cut off once more.

"Something's wrong with the machine!" said a soldier urgently.

" _What?"_ Banox cried. "Fix it!"

"I will - We will -"

Sweat was pouring down the Doctor's forehead. Oh, _where_ was River Song? _Why_ had he trusted her so much anyway? To find him? Get him out of this mess? Oh, right, he hadn't trusted her. He'd thought this would be _fun_. Well, it wasn't anymore, but she was just an archaeologist. To expect her to be able to find him all by herself was too much too -

A creaking, whooshing noise filled the air and the Doctor opened his eyes. The TARDIS's outline was taking shape behind the machine, which was glowing red, and Banox, who was leaning heavily and sweating profusely. The Doctor bit his tongue and cursed mentally. She could _control_ the TARDIS? For real? She had the key - but she knew how to _fly_ it? It had _let_ her? More mysteries piling up around River Song! As if his "pleasure trip" hadn't already turned out bad enough! Despite himself and his pain a small smile was forming on his face. At the same time a cold fear was growing inside him.

The door swished open and River Song poked her head through, then stepped out, voice light. "Oh, dear."

"How can you fly the TARDIS?" the Doctor yelled at her weakly.

"A TARDIS!" Banox said, face lighting up, pain-filled eyes glowing with interest. His head swiveled slightly to take it all in, or maybe it was his horns dragging his face around.

"Stop interrupting, it's a very bad habit," the Doctor screeched through his pain, eyes screwed up, at Banox.

"Just give me a moment!" River shouted over the noise. The TARDIS wheezed again and disappeared, leaving the Doctor in cold dread and the room in astonishment. Then just a second later River Song, in golden-haired glory, pistol out and a troop of yellow-clad Asgard police storming after, burst into the room.

The Doctor couldn't help but smiling again, it was so crazy.

In a short while Banox was tied up with a rope carried by one of the policemen, and the officers had dispersed to handle the soldiers. One by one they were trooped out of the concrete room. The Doctor had confessed to River how he'd made his failed "escape" - a bit of Time Lord mental energy exercised on a soldier, a subtle unlocking of the cuffs, and a neatly executed swipe of the screwdriver. River had been only a little sarcastic. Now one policeman remained with Banox, River, and the Doctor for a moment, until River said something to him in a low voice, and the policeman followed his cohorts out the door, toting the Doctor, who was still a little out of it from the pain.

Banox remained with River in the concrete room.

"What did you tell the policeman?" he demanded gutturally.

"He thinks I've got a royal warrant to take you down," River said. "I told him I needed to discuss something with the two of you, to continue the investigation into the crime network. It's a little true."

"Then what do you want with me?" The Uruturu seemed in low spirits. His grand scheme had been foiled - just _barely_ foiled.

"I want to know how you knew the Doctor was here," River told him, eyes cold as ice.

Banox looked taken aback. His shoulders began to shake. Then he began to laugh, a deep, slow, rough _huh-huh-huh._

"Is something funny?" River raised her eyebrows.

"You're not the only one with time travel technology on Asgard," Banox rasped.

River looked at him for a moment, a little shocked. Then she recovered. "I'll be taking that from you, then."

"Try to," Banox snarled. "Try to take from me what I want. Bring me the Doctor, or this whole planet blows up."

"Interesting thought, but I don't see how it's going to happen." River was brisk; wasn't even looking at him; didn't miss a beat; her fingers were flying over a small device designed to detect sophisticated tech. She'd pulled it from her pack.

"I have a series of explosives buried under the whole planet. From centuries back," Banox told her, almost dismissively. "The ignition device is in my skull. I can trigger it telepathically. Old family secret, those mines. But the initiator strategy is all mine."

River had frozen. She turned to look at him slowly, one finger still tapping on her device. "Clever."

"Bring me the Time Lord," Banox threatened, "or we're _all_ history."

"Of course not," she said slowly and icily, "he's gone, he's not coming back, and you can't hurt him anymore."

"Care about him, then, do you?" Banox leered. "The initiator reacts instantly. A second and the bombs go off. Him or the planet? Him or the planet?" He kept going, repeating himself, but River was zoning out, eyes unfocused, staring at the wall.

"Him or the planet?" Banox repeated more forcefully.

"I've always been one to make my own options," River said quietly. The screwdriver would disable it. But the screwdriver was tucked back in the Doctor's pocket.

"Me, instead."

There was a pregnant pause. The Uruturu stared at her incredulously. " _You_? You won't do! I need _regeneration_ power, _cow_."

It wasn't an insult, coming from a slightly bovine race. "I have regeneration power," River told him. "I'm a Time Lord. Verify it." She retrieved a biological scanner from her pack and held it out to him, hand shaking slightly. She had just checked Banox's word to be true: a technologically advanced initiator (probably from the 51st century), planted in his skull, linked to bombs running under the planet's surface.

Banox stared down at it when she placed it in his lap. He seemed to concentrate, then the buttons began moving on their own. After a moment the screen flashed red. Banox stared up at River in astonishment. "But all the Time Lords are extinct except for the Doctor!"

"I guess I'm a fluke," River said mock-sweetly. She _was_ a Time Lord. Her regeneration energy was gone, but Banox didn't need to know that.

Banox began to grin, his shoulders shaking again, _huh-huh_ ing again. "Sounds good to me, sweetheart."

"Let's get this show on the road," River said, sinking down. Her device had just notified her that the initiator reacted in _less_ than a second. And she had no deactivator on hand.

Banox moved slowly, obviously still in great pain, and connected River with half the cords, even some attached to the tips of her curls. He instructed River how to do it with him, obviously enjoying the feel of her hands on his white skin. River shuddered. He was disgusting, salivating slightly while he stared at her, green eyes occasionally turning red then back to green. River finished with the cords, making sure the connection was particularly painful. Banox, panting, leaned back a little.

"Flip the switch."

River looked at him for a long moment.

She wasn't afraid of her _own_ death, but to keep this disgusting creature alive . . . well, she didn't know where she died. Maybe here she died. Now. To keep the Doctor alive.

Hating Banox, hating herself just now, she leaned back as far as she could and twisted her arm around to lower the lever. It was heavy, it squeaked, and it gave her _ample_ opportunity to consider her life, and how it would tragically, heroically end just now, as she pushed it down. An ironic smile curved her lips.

"What in the name of _Gallifrey_ are you doing?"

The Doctor appeared in the room, blazing with anger. River found it hard to look at him. She was not scared of the Doctor when he was angry, but he was still hard to look at. Especially so _young_. She had seen him when his anger _did_ scare her, when it scared great generals and huge armies and the worst of the worst and _everyone_ . . . but he was so much younger now, and right now he didn't scare anybody in the room. Banox's nostrils flared and his head jerked back. River whirled to face the Doctor, the cords tugging agonizingly on her skin (but she had a high pain tolerance anyway).

The Doctor was white with fury. "River! What are you doing!?"

"Saving you!" River yelled back. Her nervousness and anger was getting the better of her.

"Saving me? You've already saved me! Why are you giving _yourself_ to him?" He stormed forward and pulled one of the cords away that was attached tied to a curl. It _hurt_ but River managed to ignore it.

"He's got mines under the planet's surface," River explained rapidly, "and I verified it, and he can blow up the planet in less than a second. He needs a life, or he'll destroy the planet-"

"Not you!" the Doctor yelled.

"Not _you_!" River bellowed back.

"No!" the Doctor shouted in outrage. "He wants a Time Lord! You're not even worth it, we can find another way, we are _never ever_ playing this game River Song, get out of here, I don't want to see you again, and certainly not like th-"

"You don't know-" Banox interjected, his eyes lighting up in interest.

"Shut up!" River cried. "Shut up, you stupid-" She looked away from Banox to the Doctor. "It's not all about you! You-" she cut off in a scream, her head tossing back and veins bulging in her neck.

The Doctor had failed to pull enough cords out and Banox, his eyes flickering treacherously back and forth, had found his opportunity. With one powerful pale finger he had flipped the switch and a second after River let out her scream his own head flopped back and he released a deep-throated bellow that shook the ceiling for the third time. The Doctor at once jerked back, face white, pale eyes huge and red-rimmed, and jammed his arms into one pocket. He pulled out his screwdriver and aimed it with both hands at the machine. Banox, through his roars, noticed the Doctor and lunged forward, cords jerking, to reach for the screwdriver and bat it out of his hands. And through River's screams, Banox's bellows, the sonic screwdriver's whir cut out of the noise. The machine blew up in a shower of sparks that landed on the floor, the shelves, Banox's horns, the Doctor's trench coat, and River's hair. The Uruturu and River slumped forward simultaneously. The Doctor was too slow to react and River hit the floor only to reel backward, looking upward groggily. Her voice was venomous when she spoke. "You _bloody-"_

The Doctor and she began to yell at each other all at once. Banox's roar of outrage drowned them both out, though, and they both looked at him in surprise.

He pointed a finger at his head. A red light was beginning to shine through his pasty white skin. "Initiated," he sneered.

The Doctor reacted too fast for him. A blue light, a noisy whir, and Banox jerked as the red light began to blink rapidly. "What did you do?" River demanded urgently.

"Cut off the connection to all the bombs. Delayed it a little. But I can't stop him from blowing up," the Doctor answered savagely.

"Me?" Banox asked raggedly.

"Old family secret," River said in wonder. "The mines aren't just through the planet - they're _contained_ in the family-"

A low whine began to emit from Banox, even though his mouth was not open. Smoke streamed from his nostrils.

"Let's get out of here!" the Doctor yelled. This time when River extended her hand he took it without question. They leaped over the metal and cords scattered across the ground and took off, flying down the corridor while the loud whine filled the building to the ceiling, overpoweringly. They careened around the corner, down hall, out of a metal door, into a brightly lit lobby - yelled a warning to the startled receptionist - and rocketed out the doors, into bright sunshine. The Doctor had not yet been out of the building and he reeled in astonishment as yellow light spilled around them. River had doubled over and her hair covered her face. Policemen were staring up in astonishment. They were standing in a high, cobblestone square, tall grandiose buildings surrounding them. The label over the building they'd just emerged from - which was emitting an enormous sound into the square - read _Department of the Treasury._

"We were in the _Treasury-_?" the Doctor said in amazement.

All sound seemed to cease for a moment and an orange glow built up from the windows of the building. Then the Doctor ducked, a head over his arm, and all the people in the square, hundreds of Asgardians, the policemen, the mercenaries, and River, cowered to the square and the building exploded.

A few seconds later - or maybe it was an hour, or probably like a minute - the ash cleared, leaving a perfect enormous crater surrounded by towering piles of rubble. And everything was gone. At the bottom of the crater a low dark passageway led to the transporter rail.

Smoke clouded up and sparks glowed in piles of warm ashes, all around them. The Doctor turned to River, whose hair was stained gray. Bits of fire dotted her clothes.

"What was that?" the Doctor bellowed at her.

"What do you mean, what was that?" River yelled back in return, her eyes screwed up against the heat and smoke of the air.

"You were going to _sacrifice_ yourself? Don't ever do that, River, don't _ever_ do that! How _dare_ you? You listen to _me_!" he blew up at her.

"Oh, you stupid-!" she screeched at him. "I suppose I don't need to make the same mistake twice!"

The Doctor was livid. " _Ohh_ , you, Professor _archaeologist_ Song-"

"You blew up the building! _People_ died!"

"You _never_ sacrifice yourself for me, Professor, _I_ decide who does that, and when, and _I'm_ in charge-"

River silenced him with a freezing glare. "See you around, Doctor!" She stuffed the key into his hand, which was waving in anger, and she turned around and marched away from him through the ash.

Ten stared after her, speechless, furious. If she had died _now -_ she couldn't know just what was at stake - she couldn't understand that he actually - she couldn't - she -

A few hours later, Ten found himself standing in a desolate alleyway, behind a few dumpsters overflowing with garbage. The key to the TARDIS was clutched in his tightly closed fist. He stared at it, for a long moment, in deep thought.

He didn't want to see River Song ever again. He couldn't trust her. He couldn't be around people that just kept dying for him. He was the Doctor, he was supposed to help people. Not get them killed for him.

He didn't want to see River Song ever again. The TARDIS began to materialize, humming its wheezy hum. He stared at it, a little lost for a moment, remembering how _her_ Doctor had opened the doors with a snap of his fingers. Well, he didn't want to be _her_ Doctor!

But, anyway . . . he snapped his fingers and the door opened at his call. Ten stepped inside, greeted by the familiar glow and hum, and stared outside, into the cold gray sky between the buildings, the ash blowing down like snow. The door swung shut on his second adventure with River Song.


	2. Chapter 2: Way of the Wolf

**2 - The Way of the Wolf**

A multitude of stars twinkled in space. Blue, black, purple depths, endless, sprinkled with white dots and the occasional planet. Nebulas swirled at such a slow rate as for the movement to be unperceived except through a time-lapse of the centuries. But there was nothing, nothing for millions of miles. Maybe even billions.

Nothing, but a blue box, and a pair of legs. Ten stared down into space a little dreamily, his hands cupped around a steaming mug.

Nothing, but a blue box, a pair of legs, and a . . . blue cube, floating toward him, loudly whistling? The Doctor stood up straight, almost dropping his mug in excitement. _Mail!_

It was hard to get mail when you lived in a box that spent most of its time on a different planet . . . and in the wrong time zone. But, if you sent the mail very persistently, repetitively, with a real effort, usually it made its way to the TARDIS door. The Doctor leaned out the door as far as he could, one leg swinging free, a hand outstretched, his tongue nearly hanging out, he was so excited. He swiped, once, twice, and claimed the box. The doors swung shut loudly as he hopped down the steps three at a time.

The box was a small cube, glaring with an intense navy light, two white shining rings linked on each of its faces. Ten frowned. He didn't quite remember that icon . . . Hmm. He tapped the cube experimentally. Nothing happened. Cracked it against the floor. Stomped on it. Tried to peel it apart with his fingernails for a solid fifteen minutes. He actually obtained a hammer from a drawer and swung at it - the TARDIS groaned alarmingly just before the tip smacked the console and he backpedaled rapidly. This was not going to work.

He glared accusingly at the cube.

"Open!" he ordered it loudly.

Still no reaction. Well, _sometimes_ it worked.

Ten smoothed a hand through his hair and sighed loudly at the cube, resting innocently on the console. A second later the twin rings began to glow very brightly and the cube unfolded, like origami, unfurling starting with the top and finishing with the two rings, that had remained jutting upward, but now sank into the bottom of the cube so that they formed a two-dimensional shiny white drawing on the center of the paper. The ink of the drawing dissipated and reformed into a pattern of spidery white text.

"Breath recognition," the Doctor muttered. "Well, it's an uncommon enough technique."

He leaned forward to inspect the writing.

 _Greetings_ _Altravus_ _,_

 _You have been selected for duty on the Moste Brutal Courte of Wrongs. The case is one concerning the matter of Grande Theft performed by Dark Stepse. You are expected to attend from 10am Augast 7 to and possibly exceeding July 7. The case may be complexe and your confidentiality is required. Please be prompt and impartial._

 _Yours in brotherehood,_

 _The High Courte of Wolflong_

"Wolflong!" the Doctor said in wonder.

He remembered it now. He'd spent some time on the planet of wolfish humanoids, which practiced a savage, tribal code of justice. (In their culture, _brutal_ and _savage_ were both considered compliments.) He'd never heard of law courts on the planet, but then he'd been adopted into the society - after being code named Altravus, a more Wolflongish name - a few centuries ago, from his perspective, and he may have forgotten. Hm. Well, he'd have to show up. It had been a long time since he'd been a juror on a court case. The linked rings: the symbol of the government of Wolflong.

The Doctor turned to the console. "Well, old girl," he breathed. "To the most Brutal Courte of Wrongs."

The TARDIS materialized on busy square, right by a lamppost, where a few startled Wolfers scattered as they realized they were being absorbed into a strange blue box. Ten abruptly remembered to make it go invisible and dashed over to the console to hit down the lever before peeking outside.

"Snow!" he said in surprise.

Snow blanketed the cobblestones and whirled down from the heavens. The Doctor walked outside, using a hand to shield his eyes from the glare of the cold white sky. Tall, broad-shouldered figures - including the women, who were nearly as muscular as the men - were packed in the square, and barely any seemed to spare a glance to the sudden depression in the snow that marked the invisible TARDIS. The aliens were all very tall, brawny, and suspiciously furry. Most wore long gray coats reminiscent of wolf fur and all had long silvery hair, a pair of two wolf ears, and large eyes. The chattering the passersby made sounded like small yipping dogs. The Doctor smiled in enjoyment and moved on.

He was on the lookout, of course, for the high-steepled building that housed the Moste Brutal Courte of Wrongs, but there was nothing wrong with a bit of sightseeing. Ten sloshed through the flakes, which were rapidly dusting his hair. It was nice to be in a snowy place. He'd spent so much time on warm paradise-esque planets lately . . . (trying to distract himself, if he was honest. Donna's fate was weighing down on him more heavily than ever. But the Doctor was excellent at pretending everything was alright, and today was no exception). Ten squeezed through the crowds, searching for a sign to point his way. It was Augast on Wolflong - the Earth equivalent of August, but on this side of the planet it was snowy during the summers. Just another detail he'd forgotten in his absence from his "brotherehood".

A tall blue sign indicated to pedestrians the way to notable landmarks. The Doctor stared up at it, got his bearings, and hailed a driver to take him the five miles he'd have to go on foot otherwise. Wolfers tended to be much better at _walking_ than humans . . . and Time Lords. A Wolfer pulled up in tiny roofed wagon, pulled by an enormous red-coated canine with snaggly teeth. A Vunderwolf - closely related to the Wolfer species, but as the Wolfers legally practiced slavery, it did not matter much. The Wolfer, dressed in a thick brown coat, peered down at the Doctor from under craggy gray brows.

A thick accent. "Where're you off to?"

"The Most Brutal Court of Wrongs," the Doctor enunciated clearly.

"Get in," the driver grunted, swinging back his voluminous furs. A tradition of Wolflong hospitality (one of the only traditions) that the Doctor appreciated very clearly - the drivers' fur coats, wrapped around them to keep the furs warm, was always swung out heated for passengers to shelter in. The Doctor exchanged a piece of stamped rawhide (Wolflong currency) with the driver, who jerked a clawed thumb into the back. "In!"

The Doctor smiled, painfully polite, and climbed in to snuggle into the fur. He sat on his hands and stared off in enjoyment. The driver swung his whip and said something impossible to decipher, it was so guttural, but the Vunderwolf started off with a low bellow. A red tail swung in Ten's face and the heavy pads began to pull forward. The wagon bounced and jostled in the snow as it set off rolling.

The Doctor suddenly jolted. A bald, enormous head, hollows for eyes, no discernable mouth, a thin black suit with nothing to shelter it from the cold, staring ominously at him from the side of the street.

 _Then_ , the carriage passed it by, and the Doctor forgot.

The wagon ground to a stop, snow crunching, and the Vunderwolf's breath steamed up from the air as the Doctor clambered out. No tips necessary. On Wolflong, tipping was considered a sign of weakness. But the Vunderwolf did not know it was so. Ten tossed another piece of rawhide to the big red beast and it snapped it up gratefully, staring at him from steamy red eyes. Its enormous sandpaper tongue swiped around its snaggle-teeth. The Doctor estimated that it wasn't a threat, but he didn't like the look of those teeth. He passed onto the cobbled sidewalk as the carriage rolled off. Wolfers stopped to look at the Doctor, so strange and hairless and pink as he was, in fascination. A little one, a girl with long silvery sideburns that flowed onto a pretty brown coat, stared up at him, one finger outstretched. The mother was pointing as well. On Wolflong, pointing was considered a compliment.

The Doctor smiled at them and quickly passed through the doors of the Most Brutal Court of Wrongs. Instantly a blast of warmer air met him. It wasn't very warm, though, the Doctor judged, because wolves kept warm with their fur rather than artificial heating. A stern-looking receptionist sat at the desk and stared him down from under craggy white brows. "Yes?"

"Juror for the case of" . . . the Doctor checked the envelope . . . "Grand Theft, performed by Dark Steps."

"You're late," said the secretary gutturally.

With a _time machine?_ The Doctor sighed. "My apologies. Will I still be admitted?"

"You are _three days_ late . . . Altravus?"

"That's me," the Doctor confirmed, pointing at himself, a sinking feeling in his gut. _Three days_ late? "Same question, will I still be admitted?"

"The jurors are in session for five more minutes. Then you may join them for their recess and go over the minutes," the secretary replied dismissively. His hot breath, smelling like rancid meat, hit the Doctor in the face as he leaned forward. A nametag dropped and hit the desk with a loud rattling sound. _Altravus_ gleamed up from it. " _Do not be late."_

Wolfers appreciated punctuality, as well.

Ten waited behind a tall tropical plant for the jurors to adjourn, unwilling to admit it, but he wanted to stay out of the receptionist's surly eye. Finally, a light that had been yellow glowed blue, and from the hallway behind the reception desk voices began to babble. A stream of people began to issue from the door. Mostly Wolfers, but a few humans too. The Doctor waited with an inkling of impatience. And when the last few people emerged, he jolted in surprise. Professor River Song, walking out with a cluster of Wolfers, speaking in hushed voices. The Doctor shrank behind the plant, not willing to be seen, but too late, the whole kit and caboodle of them were coming this way.

The jurors stood in little circles, some laughing in throaty voices, others just speaking in quiet tones. Ten kept his eyes trained on River, his heart thumping loudly beneath his suit. Surely she would hear it. She knew everything. Oh, why, oh _why_ did he have to come to _this_ trial?

Maybe she wouldn't see him, the Doctor prayed, and maybe Altravus wouldn't show up to this trial at all. He held his breath as River's gaze slowly swept the room. Then she found him, and she stared at him for half a millisecond before her eyes turned away.

What? Didn't she want to talk to him?

Somehow that rubbed the Doctor the wrong way. Maybe it wouldn't do any harm to stay, he decided.

He waited patiently as the jurors stood and talked for a few minutes, then as a guard emerged from the same hallway to order them into the break room or out of the building, depending on their preference, they couldn't have so many people clogging up the lobby, for heaven's sake, there were other trials going on! The Doctor followed the jurors surreptitiously into the break room, keeping River's bush of hair in sight. The guard stopped him to growl at him and sniff him over before the receptionist cleared things up and the guard wolf grudgingly allowed the Doctor past. He sidled into the room, a cramped, tiled cafeteria sort of thing, with heavy pine boughs buttressing the ceiling and log tables waiting. Plates of food sprawled across a central counter and the jurors swarmed to it, their voices rising in anticipation. The Doctor was not looking for food, however. He went straight for the sheaf of papers left on an official-looking, tiny round table by the door: _OFFICIALE MINUTES._ He knew what he wanted, and he flipped straight to the page discussing Dark Steps's basic info.

 _Human,_ it said. _Child,_ it said.

Ten studied her picture with surprise. It was a human, female child, probably around ten or eight years old, with brown hair. She looked very young and timid, but something in her eyes was . . . _hard._ The camera, as primitive as it was (Wolfers never really bothered with photographs) had managed to capture that much. She had a _hard_ look - like stone, in her pale eyes.

Somebody bumped into him from behind, and Wolfers were not gentle bumpers. The Doctor turned to see a gray-maned male glowering down at him. "I don't believe I've seen you before."

"No, I showed up a bit late," Ten winced, imagining the bruise forming already on his side. "Altravus is the name. You?"

"Longtooth," the Wolfer growled approvingly, gaping his jaw a little to show a freakishly long tooth curling over his tongue. "My dam's name for me was Silverbeard. The Brotherhood thought otherwise for me."

"It's fitting," the Doctor said politely.

"Need any details on the case?" Longtooth went on, his sandpaper tongue lapping at his jaws. His nose quivered wetly in the air and the Doctor shivered, imagining him soaking up all the smells. Time travel had a very specific smell, he understood from previous experiences, but Longtooth shouldn't recognize it . . .

"You smell like Streampaw," Longtooth suddenly blurted. "Hey, Streampaw!" He stuck his wolfish head over his shoulder to call to someone behind him. The Doctor froze as River's golden head turned. She looked very indifferent, very much like she didn't know him, though a smile was still on her face from her last conversation. "Yes, Longtooth?"

"Altravus over here smells like you," the Wolfer huffed. "You know him? Maybe he's from your neck of the woods. Earth, of course."

"I don't know. Maybe," River replied smoothly, approaching them. "Altravus? I'm from Earth, it's always nice to see a fellow human here."

"You know him?" Longtooth prompted.

"I don't think so. It's a pleasure," River said courteously, extending a hand. The Doctor took it dumbly, stunned by her indifference. How could she not know him this time? Were they so out of order? Where was her _Hello, sweetie,_ and her sad sweeping looks, and her flirtiness, and her strange, dangerous familiarity? But she was behaving like they were strangers. This was _not_ the way they met, could it be? They certainly had longer histories than this. The word she'd whispered into his ear, in the Library, proved otherwise.

Her hand was cool and firm. Ten shook it, a little late, and her eyebrows were arching. "Where on Earth are you from?"

"Um, London," he managed, jolted into action by the question. "Britain. You?" Not pausing for her to respond, he moved on to the question lingering under the surface. "I'm sorry, there are so many humans on this case, I'm supposing it's because the defendant is human?"

"You guessed right," Longtooth growled. His face darkened and suddenly looked more wolfish. River cocked a warning look at the Doctor as the wolf-man went on. "She stole riches from the Gaylight pack. Our most prized talismans. I cannot discuss this with a human, even one adopted by the brotherhood. If you will excuse me." He turned away, silver robes flicking the Doctor in the face. He retreated a step, screwing up his eyes. River's laughter surprised him and he looked up at her, startled.

"So, Altravus, how did you become involved with the Wolfers?" she inquired. The Doctor tried to relax while his heart hammered. Maybe he just needed to play along with her game.

"I spent some time with them in the past. You?"

"Very vague," she noticed coolly, raising her eyebrows. "I was adopted in recently, and they named me Streampaw. Altravus is a little less traditional. It means 'whitetail', doesn't it, in the Wolflong old language? Not a compliment. Whitetails are deer, just like on Earth."

Heat crept up into the Doctor's face. "Yeah, but I think the name was something of a joke."

"Maybe," River responded. She took a pace closer and leaned up to speak into his ear. Her breath ruffled his sideburn as she whispered. "The real question is, how does a Time Lord pass as an Earthling to a bunch of scent-sensitive Wolfers?"

"Please," he whispered back, irrationally pleased that she was finally dropping her little game, and that she recognized him, and - why was he so pleased, when she was so infuriating, kept inserting herself, and he wished she wasn't involved with him at all? - "the Wolfers don't know Time Lords from humans."

"They don't," River approved, stepping back, a small smile on her face. "Let me talk to you in private, sweetie. No one is looking."

He followed her out the room, into the hallway, and then (with surprise) into a tiny maintenance closet. It was dark, and he could barely see her outlined against the cleaning buckets. "Why in _here_?"

"In here they can't see us," she responded quietly. "Doctor, you must behave as if you don't know me. I can't behave as if I know you either. There are people here out to get you. Don't let yourself be recognized!"

In that instance the Doctor remembered just why he hated meeting River Song.

"Stop defending me, River," he demanded intensely, crowding her suddenly. She backed up in surprise. "What do you mean?"

"I mean what I said. _Tell_ me who's after me. And tell me the details of this case. Just what are the chances we're both assigned to it?" he said savagely.

River looked taken aback, but she started to answer him reasonably. "Dark Steps - is a human child. No one really knows how she got here. But she stole some things, like Longtooth said, and they're prosecuting her. Humans must be on the case according to the law."

"They can prosecute a _child_?"

"Apparently it's been a long time since you were on Wolflong, Doctor," River said darkly. "They've gotten rougher around here. People think - people" - and she hesitated, the Doctor getting the sense (as he'd gotten so many times) that she was holding something back - "that the government is under control, from the inside. As to us being assigned to the same case, sheer - coincidence," she replied with forced brightness, waving her hands. "I don't think -"

"Stop lying," Ten interrupted angrily. "There's no such thing as a coincidence with _you_ , River Song, so tell me -"

"I did," River said hotly, "so stop telling me I didn't! Doctor, be _reasonable_. I have no idea how we were assigned to this same case!"

"I don't believe you," the Doctor breathed in her ear. Muffled voices sounded outside the closet and footsteps passed closely.

There was a brief silence before the door flew open. They both flew around to face a grubby old Wolfer looked surprised. River flew past him and marched away from the Doctor, who followed her out of the closet and stood, breathing heavily out of his nose. Ridiculous woman. His eyes followed the stiff shape of her back as it disappeared around a corner and he turned away, angrily. He needed to focus. He was here for a reason, but - this was more important!

He flew up the corridor, away from the stunned-looking janitor. He needed information on her.

Ten hammered politely on the door. Again. Again. Then it swung open, so fast and hard that he almost fell forward.

"Yes?" said the Wolfer keenly, her long-lashed eyes staring unblinkingly down at him. A brass plate engraved with the words HEAD JUROR gleamed yellow-ly from the desk behind her.

"Oh, hello," the Doctor said with an attempt at an ingratiating smile. "Altravus, juror on the case of Dark Steps." He held out a hand before remembering that that was perceived as a threat by Wolfmen - Wolfwomen. To his surprised relief she took his hand in a enormous clawed grip and shook it twice, leaving his fingers buzzing as the blood flowed back into the tips.

"I'm so sorry, I just realized that handshaking wasn't correct Wolflong social etiquette, I thought I got it wrong…?" the Doctor began, as the Wolfer stood back and invited him into her office. It was low-ceilinged and timber-furnitured. The floor was a filthy brownstone brick. The Wolfer raised her golden brows and turned to face him. By Wolfer standards he thought she would be considered very beautiful.

"Yes, however, I've been on human-controlled planets before," she responded gruffly. "I understand your customs. Your scent is most unusual. What planet do you come from?"

Most customs, the Doctor understood, because if she completely knew them she wouldn't be so rude as to comment on his _smell._ "Earth, Theta Harehunter," he said politely.

"What can I do for you, Whitetail?" she asked, reading the runes on his nametag.

"I needed to discuss another juror," he replied quickly, glancing meaningfully at the door, which she shut. "Can you be discreet?"

"I always am," she replied discreetly.

"Excellent," Ten murmured, sitting in the chair she indicated to him. Fur swished and the other thronelike chair groaned as she sat heavily in it, piercing silver eyes glaring at him from under long golden fur. "So, I want to know about the juror titled Streampaw."

He had expected Theta Harehunter to scowl in concentration, to wrinkle her brow as she struggled to sort a picture of River out from the rest, to need to flip through an album of current jurors, but what he wasn't expecting was her eyes to light up and a smile to split her face. "Streampaw? Yes, excellent juror, excellent Wolfer. Highly respectable. What about her?"

Ten's head reeled momentarily. "I need all the info you have on her background."

The silver eyes hardened. "I'm not in the habit of giving away information, Altravus, to whoever asks about it, especially when it involves highly ranked Members of the Brotherhood. What exactly do you want on her?"

 _Her alibi?_ "Not her personal life," Ten soothed. "Can I just have her basic file?"

"That I can do," Harehunter said more calmly, and stuck out her paws to rifle through a gigantic album. Ten watched as pictures of wolfmen, gargoyles, lizard ladies, Sontarans, three images of Dorian Maldovar from his body-building days, and even as a Vunderwolf flickered past before she withdrew a picture of River from the album and passed it to him, with a ticket bearing her basic information. "There you go. Read it and leave it."

"Actually, can I take a copy home?" the Doctor asked tentatively.

"Certainly." Harehunter took back the ticket and picture and slid it through a tiny version of an Earth copier. A disc was spat out from it, which she passed back to him. "This will have the info on it. Have anything to play it through?"

"Yes," said Ten, his mind whirling. "Thank you."

"Why are you so interested in her?" she asked him coolly.

"Well - you know - other Earthling," he said absently, running a thumb over the disc. He looked up as the question came home. "I - I just - I think I've known her from elsewhere, and -"

"She's a highly regarded member of the Brotherhood," Harehunter interrupted threateningly. "Touch her and you touch the rest of us. Remember that, Whitetail." She stood up, the desk moved back at least three inches, and the Doctor got up and fled the office. He had more questions now than he'd had when he arrived.

The Doctor ran his fingers along the disc. Over and back. It reflected a glossy sheen from the light of the TARDIS. He'd viewed it, but he had learned absolutely nothing, other than that she had joined the Wolflong community much the same way he had: through a stunning series of escapades in which she saved a Prime Minister from assassination and prevented a misunderstanding that would have caused galactic war. It impressed him, but he was still confused. They had no data on her pre-Wolflong life. Only that she visited the planet off and on and was a usual resident of the Andromeda galaxy. Zero specifics. Nothing else. He drove his fingers through his hair. Also, why did Theta Harehunter insist so strongly on protecting her?

He'd read the case file too. The child had stolen some valuable old objects from a national museum. His sympathy still lay with her - juvenile hall over federal prosecution and lifetime sentences, surely? - but the details left him _flabbergasted_. She had no family to feed. She was a beggar, desperate for money probably, but with skills that let her tiptoe past lasers and giant guards to reach priceless jewels? It was incredible. Disguised her scent with a homemade spray found to contain one part fur musk and two parts lemon juice. She'd even knocked out the security cameras before accessing the museum, but no one had found the computer. The jewels had been discovered in a trash can three blocks down. Dark Steps had not confessed (lawyer representation was not a thing for felons on Wolflong) and was pleading innocent. The typist's records showed that the girl was intelligent and quiet, but her story couldn't be confirmed by anybody. She said that she'd yes, accessed the museum, but stolen nothing, it was just for fun, and that Wolfers were idiots. It hadn't played well with the majority of the jury.

Time to prove her innocence. Time for plan B.

Ten hit the lever and the TARDIS groaned energetically in response. Sure, he didn't know if she was _actually_ innocent. It seemed a shame to imprison a girl for a life-sentence without absolute proof, though. Especially when the said girl was a _genius_. He needed to know more about her. When the TARDIS stopped humming he stepped out, onto a rain-washed street, and immediately received a slush-ball to the face.

"Oh my gosh!"

He heard scared voices fade into the distance along with the sound of running feet. When Ten had finished clawing the slush from his eyeballs he peered after his assailants. Little kids. Probably trying to throw at each other. Hadn't expected a giant blue box to materialize in their way. This also meant he was on the right track. Street urchins.

Ten turned around and began to slosh through the muddy snow. It was dark, with only a few lamps lighting up the street corners and a couple of miserable vendors standing around. A Vunderwolf loomed nearby in the darkness as it pulled a gigantic carriage over the cobblestones. The Doctor winced and flung himself around it, heading under the streetside canopy to shelter from the rain. Then he saw it again, almost ran into it, in fact. He looked straight up into its gigantic bald head and found its pits of eyes staring emotionlessly into his. The thin dark suit smelled clean and dry.

The Doctor jerked backwards in shock, and forgot. He looked in surprise at his screwdriver. For some reason it was now in his hand, his finger pressing the trigger. What? He pocketed it. He needed to get going.

The Gaylight Private Museum soon loomed up at it, black and brick-y and huge in the night. Its sloping roof, three stories above his head, still protected him from the rain. He leaned against the wall of the dumpsters opposite the Museum, and waited for the kid to show up. So he was shocked, and nearly jumped into a trash can, when Dark Steps emerged from the other side of the dumpsters and dashed silently across the street. She hadn't even seen him. She seemed to be waiting for something, standing outside the huge mahogany doors. Then a red light lit up in her palm and she heaved one of the doors open with a small grunt. Ten watched in amazement.

 _How?_ What was that red light?

Ten rapidly returned to the TARDIS and piloted it inside the museum and back in time a few minutes to be able to see the kid come in. Invisibility button pressed. He scratched his chin thoughtfully. Couldn't go outside because the cameras would pick him up. He flurried around the console and dragged the monitor around. It showed the museum's interior in a grainy black and white. Tapping it hard twice cleared up the screen.

Dark Steps appeared in the museum, running in on noiseless feet. She immediately slowed down and Ten caught his breath to study her face. She had large eyes with that expression of hardness he'd earlier noted and stringy dirty braids. Pale and a skinny, malnourished frame. Biological scan results appeared on the console below, but the Doctor didn't notice. His notifications were on Do Not Disturb.

Lasers were sweeping periodically across the entrance corridor. They were gigantic swathes and for a moment the Doctor was petrified watching the kid as she bounced on the balls of her feet, a few inches in front of the first laser's range. A second after its back tip swept across the tiles another laser was slicing down after it. And she was going through this?

The girl went through it. "That girl," Ten said in disbelief.

The Doctor could not believe his eyes as she contorted her way through the twenty-foot corridor. Not a laser touched her, though in the ten second span he was sure fifty times that the red light had frozen her. Then she went through a second pair of already-opened double doors. Ten hunted her out eagerly on his monitor. Two gigantic Wolfer guards, dressed in ceremonial silver armor and bearing gigantic staffs, waited behind gigantic curtains (and then the artifact room beyond), not seeing the girl yet. Ten did not see her yet, either, until the screen tracked a slight motion shaking one of the curtains.

Her light body, hair swinging, was perched on one of the ceiling beams. The rest of the ceiling was relatively smooth with angles of marble forming an arc and a few skinny beams a ten-foot leap away. Dark Steps waited for a moment; Ten thought she was hesitating; then when the light was brightest behind the double doors she hurtled off the beam and landed, catlike — or _wolf like_ — on the closest beam. Behind the gigantic guards. Over the artifact room. The floor was twenty feet under her. She rolled off the beam, hands clinging for a single moment, and dropped noiselessly. The Doctor realized he'd been holding his breath.

Now Dark Steps was wandering around the exhibits, peering across red velvet ropes and into glass boxes perched on display columns. But the display of honor, a bright large necklace of ancient delicate jewels rumored to possess magical qualities and a prized relic of the Gaylight Wolfers, sat in the very center of the room and caught her attention almost right from the start. Very valuable, priceless to the Gaylighters. Ten leaned forward in concentration, eyebrows intensely bent.

Dark Steps leaned forward and held her hands out across the dividing rope. Her fingers danced in the air above the glass. If she touched the glass, undoubtedly an alarm would go off.

The gigantic Wolfer guards still didn't notice.

The Doctor waited for her hand to touch the glass.

Then she peeled backwards, glancing stealthily at the guards, before loping past the exhibit. The Doctor prepped the TARDIS for following her and dragged the monitor around with his free hand to keep an eye on it. She was taking a side corridor.

The time caught his eye. It was 13:55. In seven minutes she would be apprehended.

She hadn't _touched_ the jewels. "Good girl," the Doctor said out loud, almost startling himself. "So who took those jewels?"

He hesitated for a moment, keeping his eyes on the monitor. Just two guards standing somberly. Then they flinched. The Doctor blinked. What? He had seen what happened … no, they just flinched. At the same time. Then Ten saw those suited aliens again and his mouth dropped open.

He remembered them! He had seen them before!

At least ten of them were standing in front of the exhibit in a circle, their gigantic meaty hands pointed toward the jewels.

Then the Doctor looked down, trying to find his biological scanner feedback, but it was on the other side of the console now. And he forgot.

 _What am I still doing here_?

He hit the lever and the TARDIS wheezed out of corporeal existence.

"So," Ten said out loud to himself, "I know she's innocent."

He was standing in the men's room, eyes fixed on the mirror while he washed his hands. He was about to continue but then the door banged open and a Wolfer slouched in, so he was forced to stop.

 _So,_ he thought, _I know she did not take the jewels. The jewels were stolen between 13:55 and 14:02, at which point she was apprehended, but she did not take the jewels._

After a brief crash course during court session, from the museum historian, the entire jury had learned the jewels' significance. The necklace, named Hiyl Pashpawm, was reported to be a relic of Alphag Uhruh, the demigod son of Alpha Bubumbum, god of the Moon Gadubum, Wolflong's second largest of five principal moons, which translated into Moon Gaylight. It was said to grant the wearer the good luck of the god and the strength of the son. Other rumors stated that it had even greater powers, that were kept a secret by the Gaylighters. This was true, but its being true was not common knowledge. The Doctor had learned it on his previous visit and then Longtooth's indiscretion had all but confirmed it.

The faucet shut off automatically. The Doctor headed outside and left the door swinging loudly shut behind him. This was the final session before the jurors met for discussion. The final verdict. The child was innocent, but Ten knew most of his fellow jurors believed otherwise. Letting this girl go to jail falsely was an anathema to him. Something about her tribulations spoke to him, maybe because it reminded him of another lawless urchin defying authorities — specifically, him.

The trial resumed in few minutes so he made his way back to the courtroom. He had gotten to see Dark Steps in the last session, when she had come out to once again give her account of events. She had seemed quiet but not despondent and not even snarky, just truthful.

Whamp. _Oops._ "Excuse me!" River spluttered. Then she realized it was him, and her face changed for an instant before she had her emotions under control. Ten rubbed his nose. He'd run straight into her. They were standing outside the courtroom, in which the jury currently was assembling in anticipation.

"How are you?" Ten asked gingerly. He'd felt bad about how he had treated her last time though he had by no means forgiven her.

"Good. Cooled off then?" River responded, looking at him keenly.

"I guess so," he said tightly.

They stood awkwardly for a few moments.

The silence crept up between them. It was full of anxiety over things to come and things that had happened.

"So post-Asgard, then?" Ten asked.

"No," River said. "Asgard? Lovely planet. Spoilers. I love the suit."

She said the word so easily. It was _her_ word, he thought. Never again would he hear it without thinking of her.

"Most do."

"So who are you traveling with now, Doctor?" she asked softly.

"No one," Ten said abruptly. "No one right now."

Her eyes, trimmed with mascara, vivid and intense, with crow's feet at the corners, looked into his. For the first time he found it difficult to look at her. The last time he had seen her face they had been angry. On Asgard they had been angry. And then, in the Library, she had not been angry. Just desperately resolved. But oh so familiarly she looked at him. He found himself thinking of their picnic. That was the only time they'd spent relaxed together, out of danger, in comfort, and the first time he had enjoyed her company so fully that for once her impending doom and the imprecations of their futures had been forgotten.

He realized she was asking if he was alright. "Of course," he said brittlely.

"You know, Doctor, at some point you will need to start trusting me," she said.

"I'm fine."

River studied his face. She looked sad again. This made the Doctor feel distanced from her. She knew more than he did. They were not quite equals.

"Are you still traveling with Donna?" she asked suddenly.

"I just left her at home." To keep his voice from cracking he whispered it. A few Wolfers passed by them into the courtroom and they slouched against the wall. It was nearly time for court to resume.

"I'm sorry," River began. "I know it must be hard for you."

Why was she trying to be so personal? But something in her spoke of familiarity. "I'm sorry how I spoke to you, Professor. But I just let Donna protect me, and you clearly know how how that went. So you must know why you need to stay clear."

"I understand how you feel," she said simply. Ten noticed that she didn't acquiesce. He felt the need to explain himself to her. "River, it's just that I can't let people do these things. I am supposed to help people, not let them get hurt, for me especially."

"I know. I understand," she murmured. "I was just warning you. People are looking for you here. Like I said, this" — she silenced herself as a bushy-furred Wolfer passed into the courtroom — "this government is said to be under control, from the inside."

"Where did you hear that? How do you know?" Ten asked her quietly.

"I pick up things," she said calmly.

"No, _how_ do you know?" He wasn't playing this game.

"I'll tell you later," she stated forcibly.

"And give you time to invent a lie?" he whispered.

"Isn't that more of your thing?" she breathed back.

A tingle ran up the back of his neck. "Maybe."

"So what is your stance on the court case?" she asked abruptly and broke the mood. Ten lifted his head and glanced over his shoulder before saying quietly, "Professor, I know she's innocent."

"You can call me River," she requested. "How?"

"I went and watched. River, she didn't do it. Her account is true. Didn't you think of verifying it with your manipulator?" His last question carried an accusatory edge.

"Of course I did. Doctor, you must vote against her," River said urgently.

Ten stared at her in astonishment. "What?"

"She _cannot_ go free."

"She might be convicted for life," the Doctor said, struggling to understand. "I didn't think you were like this. Why would you let her go to prison? She's an innocent child!"

"You _must_ vote for her to imprisoned —"

"No! What are you —"

"You have to —"

"NO what are you —"

"You have to —"

They were caught up in a tide of jurors pushing them into the courtroom. The Doctor snatched away from her and caught one last glimpse of her urgent face. He was bewildered and angry. He had just been pouring out his soul to, to this woman who was trying to send a girl to jail for life, and wouldn't tell him anything — His hearts were pounding as he flew up the steps and took his spot among the chairs. He caught a lot of strange looks but he was focused on River's golden head across the auditorium. She was staring down at the judge box, but as he stared her head turned and she met his glare. She shook her head rapidly.

 _You haven't earned my trust_ , he wanted to say.

She had died for him and knew his name. No, no, he didn't owe this to her. This girl's future —

A dramatic hush fell on the courtroom and the room went dark except for a light on the stage below. A girl was ushered out on the stage, dressed in a white shift that emphasized her vulnerability next to the gigantic furred guards ringing her and standing around the courtroom. No one uttered a word, but the heavy breathing of Wolfers filled the room. Dark Steps was bound in chains.

"Case details," bellowed the Wolfer in the judge box.

A Wolfer stood up from behind the judge. It took the Doctor a moment to recognize Theta Harehunter. At the same time he noticed Dark Steps pale visibly.

The Wolfwoman was reading in a rough high voice. "File 911181. Defendant: Dark Steps. Species: human; true name, Melona Kovar. Status: born into the Brotherhood; unaccepted." She went on to read the names of the prosecutor and the details of the crime. The Doctor's attention wandered back to the girl, who looked more blank than he had ever seen her. Her eyes were shut? She appeared completely listless. He listened keenly to the accounts of the crime as they were read out. A mocking whine sprang up from the assembled when the child's testimony was read.

Theta Harehunter had finished. "Sentence options: pardon, life with parole, life without parole, or surrendered to Gaylight Pack."

Which, essentially, meant death.

 _Wow._ Things _had_ gotten more harsh around here.

Ten swiveled his head to look at River. She knew all this, but she insisted on him voting against the girl. Was she really this terrible?

The judge raised his black nose. "Jurors, your decision."

"Let us convene in the jury room," Theta bellowed.

In a mass movement the jurors rose, robes scraping the chairs and conversation breaking loudly. Ten caught a glimpse of Theta's pinched expression and Melona's pale face. For a moment it betrayed true terror and the Doctor stared in astonishment. Then she looked away from the door and she blinked and squinted, looking expressionless again.

The Doctor filed into the juror's room with the other thirty. He made a point of sitting as far away from River as possible. A deep anger was welling up in him and an even deeper determination.

"Let us come to a decision," Theta Harehunter announced, standing at the head of the table. Her golden fur swished and wood groaned as she sat in a chair slightly higher than the rest of theirs. "We have four options. Is any discussion necessary?"

"Yes," Ten proclaimed, sitting up in his seat, his pulse beating loudly in his ears.

"No," Longtooth snarled from across from him.

"No, let's vote," barked multiple throats.

"We need to consider!" the Doctor said desperately

"No we don't," whined a short female.

"Looks like the majority are ready to vote," Theta imposed. "Sit down, Altravus, for you stand alone."

The Doctor's gaze sliced across River Song. She met his eyes inscrutably, but shook her head again. _No, Doctor._

The Doctor pushed his seat out, filled with anger, and stood up. He hurried around the side of the table to a clear spot where he could command the attention of all the Wolfers, who were staring at him now. "Listen to yourselves! You are sentencing this girl who _pleads_ innocent to life in prison, or death!" Blood pounded savagely in his eardrums. "This is not justice. And so help me I will not let it be. I am — prepared to shut this room down until we come to a correct decision." He stuffed his fists into his pockets and closed a hand around the sonic screwdriver. "She should be treated according to the laws of her people. This is too hasty a decision and you will have her blood on your hands —"

No one was listening to his spiel anymore. Even the Professor's eyes were focused on the table. His anger seemed ineffectual, and — a huge weight clamped down on his shoulder and he almost staggered. Wet breath breathed in his ear. "You embarrass yourself, Altravus. _Sit down."_

"You can't make me. I won't let her go to prison without a fair trial," Ten hissed back to Theta.

"The doors are wood," interrupted a voice. The whole table looked at River.

She shrugged. "It's just an Earth expression," she lied, but the Doctor retracted his hand. No locking the doors.

"Does that calm you down?" Theta Harehunter verified, pushing him away into the table so roughly that he hit it and keeled over. The Wolfers broke into low _huh huh huh_ s — laughter, as he struggled for air. "Let us vote!"

They voted. Longtooth, Theta Harehunter, the little female, and the rest of the room voted to surrender the child to the Gaylight pack. The Doctor felt it like a kick in his gut. He saw Dark Steps's pallid horrified face, then it faded and was replaced with a brown-haired boy too terrified to look at the Time Vortex.

He voted for freedom. River Song abstained.

He was already formulating a plan.

"Dark Steps; Melona Kovar: you are now surrendered to the Gaylight pack for justice," the enormous judge pronounced. All the spirit drained from the child's face. Ten itched in his seat. River, across from him, was hidden in shadow. Theta Harehunter appeared satisfied.

Chains were draped across the slight form and the guards marched her out. As soon as the judge gave the signal of dismissal the Doctor sprang to his feet. He knew he had not a moment to lose, and he had more than one opponent. He lost sight of the Professor across the room momentarily then saw her struggling to make her way through the crowd. Their eyes met, blazing at each other, then the Doctor leaped over the seat and slid down the steps, coat flying up behind him. Wolfers cried out in surprise as he landed heavily on the floor. River was still stuck in the throng. Trying to maintain a casual facade, the Doctor smoothed his hair with a hand, waved at a few gaping Wolfers, and left the courtroom as calmly as he could. Then he took off running. Behind him, River and Theta Harehunter were taking action.

Ten sprinted down the hallway, attracting many looks as his coat flew behind him. He had no doubt that River was in hot pursuit. As soon as he burst into the freezing open sunlight the key was in his hand and glowing red. The TARDIS whummed into view just as River came crashing through the double doors.

"You have to stop!" she shouted, her hair flying around her face. Ten slammed through the doors, meeting her eyes one last time as he backed rapidly into the console room. He smashed down the lever and the TARDIS took off. On the monitor he caught a last look of her pelting down the street. Oh no. This was not happening!

Ten dragged the monitor around, breathing heavily, and started hitting buttons. The screen lit up with info. "Gaylight High Security Jail," he read out loud. He would have to go three days into the future, after Dark Steps had already suffered through a farce of a Gaylight trial and been imprisoned. A perfect map of the jail, with Melona's cell highlighted in green and the defenses in red, popped up. He slid a few levers and waited to materialize.

Except nothing happened. Then the TARDIS groaned alarmingly.

The lights began to flash red. The Doctor dashed around the console and hit the lever up before reading in disbelief what the screen said.

 _TARDIS PROOFED._

Ten swore.

The jail was _TARDIS proofed?_ When was the last time he had tried to break in? Was he going to break in in his future? More importantly how did they have the technology to proof it? _River Song!_

She must have helped them proof it.

The Doctor redirected the TARDIS to land outside the jail, rather than in it. It was going to slow him down and risk tripping a hundred alarms, but hopefully _they_ wouldn't be made out of wood! He felt angry. How dare she?

Snow was blowing in thick horizontal sheets, blasting the Doctor's hair and whipping his coat as he leaped into the blizzard. Cruel clouds masked the night sky and the freezing wet snow clobbered into him. But the jail was in front of him, barely visibly through the whisking snow. Ice-rimmed barbed wire rose thirty feet ringing the jail everywhere but the front door. The front door was his only choice. Fortunately they were made of heavy iron. He unlocked it with the screwdriver and hauled it opened, iron screaming and wind roaring.

It was markedly silent in the jail. For the moment he had tripped no defenses. Shadows made the lobby pitch black.

Ten stepped as lightly as he could across the heavy concrete. He used his screwdriver, glowing a light blue in the dark, to check what was next. The map popped up on the screwdriver's tiny screen. He read the data and proceeded with caution. Then hurled himself behind a corner because a guard was coming!

The guard seemed strangely confused and wandered right on by without smelling Ten. He waited to be sure the Wolfer was gone then peeked cautiously around the corner. The first row of cell blocks was ahead of him.

Then his mouth dropped when he saw the hallway.

Just like the museum, red lasers were sweeping across it. Not thick ones.

 _Huge_ ones.

In fact, the entire corridor was bathed in red light that blinked on and off rhythmically. Ten gritted his teeth. To turn it off would prevent his flesh from frying off his bones. To turn it off would also undoubtedly alert somebody. His screwdriver whined. Somebody was coming. He had to act fast.

The Doctor aimed his screwdriver with both hands at the laser output.

The red light went off in a loud shower of sparks. Now he was _really_ running out of time.

He took off running, fast and noiseless, down the hall.

The Doctor turned around corners, choosing at T's, pausing to check his screwdriver's data. He triggered more than one motion sensor and was forced to lock several iron doors before he ran straight into a Wolfer's iron-armored chest.

"Where you think you're going?" growled a deep guttural Gaylight accent.

"Now let's be reasonable," the Doctor began, backing up. A laser he had deactivated was a few feet back. It was broken beyond repair. Maybe …

"There's nowhere to hide," threatened the massive wolf.

"You know, there's really not," the Doctor said conversationally, hearts beating like twin jackhammers. "But who said _I_ wanted to hide?"

He activated the laser. It seared off the tips of his coat and separated him from the Wolfer.

"See you," Ten smiled, and waved.

As he took off running he heard behind him an enormous howl echo through the halls.

Sheer excitement coupled with purpose carried the Doctor down flights of steps descending in switchbacks. He was nearly there. Hearts pounding … he turned a corner, shut off a final laser, and proceeded quietly.

A yellow light indicated that the cell at the end of the hall was occupied. A small screen embedded into the wall by the door bore the picture and name of the captive within. He held his breath and, using both hands to point the sonic, unlocked the door. The hydraulics hissed and steamy white gas streamed out from both sides. Then the door hissed open. Ten flattened himself to the wall beside it.

The Doctor, breath held, slowly inched around the doorframe.

The cell at first appeared utterly dark and he used his screwdriver to light it up. Its blue light revealed only an empty room at first. Rudimentary toilet and pitcher of water on the floor. The Doctor turned a slow 360 on his heel and froze when his eyes came into contact with the cor in the corner.

Melona, her eyes huge in her tragic face, stared up at him.

"Are you Melona?" the Doctor asked calmly and quietly, lowering his screwdriver.

"I am Melona," said the girl.

"Alright, I'm here to rescue you," began the Doctor, "but—"

"I'm here to rescue you," repeated the girl.

"That's right, but —"

"Right."

Dread seized him. Not this old gag again. How many times had he fallen for it?

All of a sudden, the lights began to flash red and the ceiling lights lit up the halls. An overpoweringly loud siren filled the room from floor to ceiling. The Doctor initially clapped his hands over his ears, then reached out for the doorway. His hand pushed into a force field and he waved it in pain. Electroshock!

The Doctor held up his screwdriver, rapidly taking readings as his pulse sped up. He spun around and faced Melona, striding forward to touch the girl. His hand passed straight through and he paused, staring in horror. It was a simulation. She was just a simulation. Green lasers suddenly shot across the cell, cutting off a further ten feet of space, confining the Doctor to the cot with the child. Her figure cut in and out.

"Little help, please," Ten hollered, standing up as the cot shook under him. The simulation disappeared and came back when the bed restabilized. He began to run his hands along the smooth metal surface of the ceiling, searching for cracks or nails.

"Help," repeated Melona dreamily.

The Doctor jabbed his screwdriver into the security camera lens, which dilated then shrank into a tiny circle. "This is an injustice and I am not going to let you kill a little girl! I will take this to the Shadow Proclamation if necessary!"

"This is an injustice," Melona echoed.

The Doctor leaped off the cot. The green lasers blazed at his back and he looked the simulation straight in the eyes, which looked back at him, unfocused. His voice dropped to a whisper. "Melona, I swear to you, I won't let you die."

"You die," Melona's simulation said simply.

"Doctor!"

Ten rolled to his feet and spun around, the green lasers frying off his coattips. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"Rescuing you," River yelled back. The green light lit up her face in a demonic way as she aimed a shovel-shaped thing at the laser output. A burst of green sparks lit up her hair and stung the Doctor in the face as she strode through.

"We have to find the little girl!" Ten said urgently into her face.

"No time," River hollered. "The Wolfers are on their way. Listen!" She gestured furiously at the doorway. The Doctor focused and heard the thundering of footsteps coming toward them, coupled with slobbering breath.

"River!" Ten pushed her back to look her in the eyes. He seized her arm. "Where's Melona?"

"The simulation is just the Gaylighters' way of detaining intruders. We have to get out of here!" She gripped him back as the first Wolfer peeled around the side of the door, spit flying from open jaws. She hit a button on the vortex manipulater on her wrist and she and Ten dematerialized in a flying white pixels as the Wolfer came charging through the door.

"I thought it was her," was the first thing the Doctor said, numbly, dropping to his knees. Snow came flying down.

"I'm sorry, Doctor," came River's reply, as she inspected her manipulator. Something dropped to the snow beside him, from her hand. It was a plastic photo.

Ten lifted his eyes. It was a picture of a grave. The line in the tombstone read _Melona Kovar: Dark Steps_

Underneath, another line: _Of the Brotherehood._

"What does this mean?" Ten asked raggedly, looking up.

"It means," River answered briskly, keeping her eyes focused on the manipulator screen, "that she was adopted into the Brotherhood, post-mortem, when found innocent of the crimes." River's voice softened and she turned to face the Doctor, eyes compassionate. "They liked her for her pluck and courage."

"Her pluck and courage?" The Doctor combed his fingers through his hair. "River, why would you do this?"

"Do what?" River knelt beside him, her eyes focused on the snow.

"Let her be killed," the Doctor whispered. He found his strength and tried to meet her eyes, but they were still on the ground. "Why would you do this?"

"Doctor, you have to accept that I know things you don't."

There it was.

She knew more than he did. He did not know her as well as he yet would. This was a different dynamic than his companions. All of them, he had been their guide, telling them what was going on, launching into uninterrupted explanations. But River was different. She bounced back and explained things to him. She did not need to be introduced to him. She had guided him. For the first time, hearts still racing, laser light dancing behind his eyes, snow in his hair, he unconsciously accepted that they were equals. She met his eyes.

 _Just hold on!_

 _You and me._

 _One last run._

"Just explain it to me," he argued, acting on his new decision.

"I can't," she said softly. "Doctor, I am so sorry. You just need to trust me enough to go with my judgment now."

The word _why almost_ left his tongue. Then he remembered why.

He stood and offered his hand to her. She took it and he pulled her upright. Snow flecked her face and the lashes above the green eyes.

"I'm assuming you don't need a ride out," the Doctor offered.

"No. Don't you?" she responded.

"Oh! Yes, I do. Can you get me back?"

"No need. She's right here."

"You can fly the TARDIS?" Ten exclaimed, joining her. The TARDIS's blue lights glowed at them from the top of a snowy hill above them. Dark pines rose up on the mountains above, beneath a night sky shedding thousands of snowflakes.

"Yes, I can," River said, turning, to view the landscape below. The Doctor turned with her. They stood on the slope of the snow-blanketed hill, and it fell away in a steep series of foothills into a gorgeous valley ringed by cruel cliffs and pine trees. But up from the valley glowed millions of golden lights and shining buildings.

"So where did you last see me, River?" Ten asked, tentatively breaking the snow-muffled silence.

"Spoilers," she reminded him. "You're too young yet."

"Can you at least tell me how you know how to fly the TARDIS?" he asked.

"You taught me," she said softly. "I mean, I figured it out on my own. You refined my technique."

"Right," he said awkwardly. This River was less chatty or flirty than he had ever seen her.

"Well, see you around, Doctor," she said haltingly, reaching for her vortex manipulator. The Doctor, watching her, was gripped by a strange emotion and reached for her arm before she could push any buttons. He let go when she looked up at him, eyes wide.

"When will I see you next?" he asked awkwardly.

"When I call, I expect," she told him, a trace of her old flirty smile on her face, but it went away quickly. Her eyes still looked sad. "See you around, Doctor."

A flash of light, and she was gone. The snow where she had stood melted into a pool. Ten looked down at where the puddle was seeping into his shoes and stepped back, mind still not quite present as he worked through his thoughts. For some reason, though when he went over the course of events he felt undeniably like he had tried to do the right thing, he still felt in the wrong. And he felt bad that River seemed so sad. Why was she not happy? Or joking? Or laughing?

At the same time he was pleased to have seen her but also strangely unhappy that she was unhappy, and frustrated, too. She just looked at him with such mournfulness in her eyes.

The Doctor waded up to his TARDIS and dematerialized.

In a dungeon, a few miles away from the valley and miles underground, underneath an ancient fortress, in a cold amphitheater made of stone embedded with bones and scratched up with all the desperate marks of those that had been entombed within, a single child with brown hair and white face stood with her chin up and tears running down her face.

A gigantic, black figure stirred from the highest throne at the other end of the room.

"How do you explain yourself?"

The voice was not from the black figure. It was a woman's sultry voice.

"I did not realize it was him," quavered Theta Harehunter. She was wrapped in chains on a dias in front of the first level of stone seats.

"Unacceptable," spat a Wolfer shrouded in shadow.

"Unacceptable," stated the sultry voice. "You performed a crucial service for us, Theta Harehunter, but with this you have nearly undone its worth."

Theta cried out, "I'm sorry, I —"

"Who believes that she should be punished?" went on the voice, suddenly venomous. Suddenly the girl's eyes shone and she lifted her face.

"Aye," intoned a deep-voiced Wolfer.

"Aye," echoed another.

"Aye," came an overlapping chorus.

"The ayes have it," Kovarian said magnanimously. "Now for the subject of _you_.You have done well, Melody. And you have seen the target?"

"I saw the target," Melody said, subdued.

"Did not betray your cover name?"

"I didn't." Her voice squeaked.

"Excellent," Kovarian purred. "Take her away. Make sure she has his face memorized. It's nearly time for her to return."

Two of the Silence broke away from the line ringing the walls of the dungeon. Melody turned with them and began to walk towards the door, from which came a white light she associated with space ships and studying. Her bare feet slapped the dank puddles on the floor, scattering her white dress with droplets and making noise, but not enough. Her face peeked over her shoulder, but all she could see was the hunched back of Theta Harehunter. When the gigantic black figure started to move she quickly looked straight ahead and followed the Silence out as fast as she could, but not fast or loud enough to beat the screams out the door.


End file.
